Dark Twilight
by Kera Larentia
Summary: After a hundred years of protecting the Glimmerwood, Drizzt meets a shadow from his past in the eyes of a rogue. A battle of wits and words ensues as Drizzt tries to uncover the truth behind the rogue's appearance in the forest. Finished! Please Review
1. Chapter 1

Standing at the edge of the rocky ledge, Hadrian's gray eyes scanned the horizon to the north at the Kingdom of Many-Arrows. His hands rested easily on the hilts of the pair of swords at his hips. As the last rays of sunlight spread across the forest, Hadrian leapt from the ledge and descended quickly down the mountainside. When he hit the bottom, he dashed into the forest, a shadow among shadows as the last rays of light disappeared.

He dodged and leapt around trees at full speed, not slowing in the least. The darkness didn't seem to slow him, and his boots barely seemed to touch the ground. Hadrian Twilight headed straight for the Kingdom of Many-Arrows.

A flash of silver nearly blinded him. It whipped past his face before hitting a tree. He slid to a sudden stop, hands filled with the hilts of a sword and dagger. His eye fell on the silver arrow embedded into the trunk of a tree. He scanned the forest for the origin of the arrow, and didn't have to wait long as a dark figure holding a silver bow, Taulmaril the Heart Seeker, stepped from the shadows, another arrow pointed at Hadrian. The dark skin, white hair, and purple eyes were unmistakable.

"Drizzt Do'Urden," Hadrian said.

"You have me at a disadvantage," Drizzt said.

"My name is of no concern," said Hadrian. "And my business is my own."

"You are headed to Obould," stated the drow. "If you plan to kill him, then it is my business to stop you."

Gray eyes met purple. Drizzt released the arrow. Hadrian dodged, barely avoiding the arrow. Drizzt dropped the bow and drew his scimitars. He was prepared to block as Hadrian launched toward him, sword swinging in a wide arch. Drizzt easily blocked the sword with Twinkle, and brought Icingdeath to block the dagger aimed for his heart. Icingdeath caught the dagger and pulled it from the rogue's hand. But his wrist was caught by the rogue before he could strike with the scimitar again. Their sword hilts locked together in front of them.

Both of them kicked the other in the stomach to break away. It would have been amusing to see, but the seriousness of the situation kept Drizzt from even cracking a smile. He was deeply disturbed by this stranger. His face was covered under the hood of his cloak so he couldn't see him too clearly, but he swore he saw a familiar look in those gray eyes peering out at him from behind the mask.

"This is your last warning," the ranger said. "Turn back from your task."

"I can not," replied the rogue. "I will not."

They circled, waiting for the other to attack. When it seemed evident that the rouge wouldn't come, Drizzt lunged with Icingdeath, twisting away at the last moment before his scimitar would have been blocked. He ducked low, bringing Twinkle around to sweep at the rogue's legs. He jumped back, but Drizzt didn't let up. The ranger kept the rogue on the retreat, nearly backing him into a tree. But the cloaked figure leapt to the side, rolled and turned as he regained his feet. He brought up his sword as Drizzt's scimitars came down at his head.

Their eyes met, and again Drizzt was disturbed by the familiarity in his opponent's empty eyes. The ranger pushed those thoughts aside and jumped back.

But before he could land, the rogue was there, sword cutting toward his heart. Drizzt twisted his body, blocking with both scimitars. He caught the glint of steel a second before it pressed to his neck. His eyes widened at the sight of the jeweled hilt.

"Entreri," he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

"Entreri," he whispered.

It was impossible! Artemis Entreri should have been dead. Drizzt had no time to dwell on this fact as the rogue pushed him back. His back met a tree and Drizzt knew he was in a dire situation.

But he couldn't help but smile when he heard the growling from the tree above. Hadrian glanced up in time to see the giant black panther leap toward him from the tree. Drizzt sighed with relief as the rogue was pinned beneath the bulk of the large panther. Hadrian struggled to get free, but his sword had been knocked from his grasp and the hand holding the dagger was pinned beneath one large paw.

Hadrian growled in frustration. Drizzt kicked the sword further from him and went to retrieve Taulmaril. He turned back when he heard Guenhwyvar cry out. He saw the rogue scramble to his feet and dash away. Drizzt immediately brought the Heartseeker up and drew an arrow from the magical quiver at his back. He pulled back the string and let the arrow fly.

Hadrian cried out as the arrow sank into his calf. He fell to the ground. Drizzt approached with another arrow ready in his bow. He was unsurprised when a group of elves appeared from the forest, bows drawn and aimed for the assassin. Hadrian reached for the arrow and pulled it free. He hopped to his feet, putting his weight on his good leg. He held up the dagger as a weak defense against the elves surrounding him.

Drizzt lowered his bow and turned to his left, where an elf was dismounting from the back of a winged horse. The ranger kept an eye on the rogue as he was joined by Lord Hralien, ruler of the Glimmerwood.

"Give up," said Hralien. "You can not win."

The rogue turned his gray eyes to Drizzt and Hralien. Suddenly a globe of darkness surrounded Hadrian and the elves. Some leapt back from the impenetrable darkness, but held their fire. They couldn't see their target and the risk of hitting one of their comrades was too high.

A shout of pain came from the darkness. Drizzt barely dodged the elven arrow as it flew from the globe of darkness. He ducked low and felt the wind from the arrow as it passed only inches above his head. They stood ready, waiting for the assassin to show himself. Drizzt brought up Taulmaril, but glanced around, trying to spot anyone among the trees.

Hadrian burst from the darkness and rolled to the ground, picking up his fallen sword. He regained his footing and dashed toward the trees.

But a great mass of six hundred pounds of black panther pinned him before he reached the tree line. Guenhwyvar growled ad her paws pinned the rogue to the ground. The bulk of the panther kept Hadrian from moving too much as Lord Hralien pried the sword and dagger from his hands.

The globe of darkness disappeared, revealing an elf kneeling on the ground, his arm cradled against his chest. Drizzt knew Hadrian had used the jeweled dagger to heal himself.

The elves bound the rogue's hands before Guenhwyvar let him up. He didn't struggle as a pair of elves lifted him to his feet until Hralien reached for the sword hanging from his belt. He kicked at Hralien, nearly hitting him in the face. The assassin was rewarded with a punch to his gut. He doubled over, hanging from the arms of the elves holding him.

"Don't touch it," he said. "Take the belt, just don't touch the sword. You will die."

Hralien took the belt and sword. Drizzt strode up to the assassin and push back the hood of his cloak.

His eyes widened. It wasn't Entreri. Though the lower half of his face was covered by a cloth, the elven ears rising up from the shock of white hair was enough to let Drizzt know this elf was no human assassin.

But his eyes were dark and cold like Entreri's. He looked away, his hair shielding his eyes from the others.

"Tell us your name," Hralien said.

"Twilight," said the elf. "Hadrian Twilight."

"Well, Hadrian Twilight, you are our prisoner now," Hralien said.

Hadrian looked up at Drizzt, his cold eyes boring into the ranger's purple orbs. The dark elf couldn't take it any longer. He turned away and looked at Hralien.

"Be careful with him," he warned Hralien. "I get the feeling that this assassin is much more than meets the eye."

***

Hadrian didn't move as he sat, surrounded by armed elves. The camp was only half a day from the home of the moon elves, but the few injuries sustained in the fight with the assassin had slowed them down a little. The poor elf Hadrian had used for healing himself had the worst of the injuries.

He was stripped to his leather pants. All of his weapons had been confiscated along with his magical cloak and the chain mail shirt he wore. But Drizzt was bothered by the fact that this elf clearly bore a resemblance to his old rival, Artemis Entreri. Hadrian even possessed the assassin's trademark dagger. The ranger had many questions and few answers.

Hadrian, for all his cooperation in allowing the elves to take his weapons, refused to talk.

Drizzt sat a little ways away from the elves, watching the assassin from his post at the edge of the clearing. Hadrian suddenly turned to him, gray eyes cold and empty.

The drow ranger suppressed a shudder. He had never seen such utter indifference, though he knew the elf was aware of his fate. It was as if the elf didn't care whether he would die or not.

"Too dangerous to live."

Drizzt's gaze shifted briefly to the young moon elf approaching him. Sharalaer settled herself beside Drizzt at a respectable distance, laying her bow across her lap. Drizzt wanted to be alone, but couldn't find the heart to tell the half-elf to leave. Her yellow hair was held back by a strip of brown cloth, curls falling around her shoulders. She was beautiful, but the mixture of human and elf in her features made her look even more exotic and fragile.

Sharalaer was not fragile. The long scar that traced a line from her right temple and down her jaw and neck was testament to the hardships she had seen in the many battles with various foes. The scar had been given to her by a member of the rogue band the Night Riders - Casin Cu Calas, they called themselves. She didn't try to hide the scar, rather she showed it as a sign of her abilities to survive and do her duties to protect the peace of the Glimmerwood.

"I've never seen such empty eyes before," Sharalaer said quietly. She turned her azure gaze to her companion. "And I have never seen Drizzt Do'Urden so unsettled before."

Drizzt shrugged. "I am reminded of long ago days when I look at that elf," he said. "Of a worthy advirsary I had thought I'd seen the last of."

Sharalaer glanced toward Hadrian, who stared up at the starry sky. As if sensing the eyes on him, the rogue lowered his head and stared back at the half-elf warrior.

"Perhaps you should talk with him," she said finally.

Drizzt shook his head. "I do not believe he wishes to talk to anyone at the moment."

Sharalaer smiled at the dark elf. "Perhaps," she said. "Perhaps he is waiting for you alone to speak with."

Drizzt's lavender gaze reflected his uncertainty as he asked. "What makes Sharalaer so sure about the words she speaks?"

The half-elf stood and brushed the leaves from her cloak. "The assassin looks as if he knows Drizzt from long ago," she said. Her blue eyes glanced at both elves before settling on Drizzt. "Though Hadrian's eyes remain cold and unreadable, I get the feeling that he knows you somehow, Drizzt. I sense familiarity in the look he gives you, even if it speaks of hostility as well."

Sharalaer smiled and backed toward the edge of the forest, just inside the trees. "I will patrol," she said. Then she disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

Drizzt turned back to Hadrian. The elf was watching him again. Drizzt could see it now. Though the onyx orbs of Hadrian's eyes seemed empty, he felt the sense that the elf was trying to tell him something. Drizzt decided to wait until Hadrian was secured before talking to the dangerous rogue.


	3. Chapter 3

The city of the elves opened before them. Drizzt was welcomed and congratulated by those who had heard of this latest venture. The injured elves were taken to be healed. Drizzt watched as Hadrian was roughly dragged into a building to be held until questioning. A pair of guards were posted outside the door.

Lord Hralien appeared beside Drizzt. "The rogue isn't talking," said the elf.

"Let me speak with him," Drizzt said.

"You sensed it too," Lord Hralien said. "Sharalaer spoke of her suspicion to me. This rogue wants to speak with you." He looked Drizzt in the eyes. "Does Drizzt wish to speak with him?"

"He is dangerous," the drow said. "I see in his eyes that he knows me, yet I have only met those eyes once; in the face of my greatest rival."

"Perhaps the answers will be found if only the questions are asked," Lord Hralien said, "I will speak with him after I see my Livaniel. Someone should keep this new enigma company while I prepare an inquiry," He turned and walked toward his home where his wife, Livaniel, waited.

Drizzt watched Lord Hralien's back as he walked away. Drizzt sighed and strode toward Hadrian's prison. He waved at the guards as he passed, receiving a nod in return.

Hadrian sat against the far wall of the building, his hands bound behind his back and his legs drawn up to his chest. He seemed like a child until he looked up into Drizzt's eyes. Those dark eyes were cold and empty, the eyes of a killer.

Drizzt stood near the door, unwilling to get near the dangerous rogue. Their eyes met, and a contest of wills began. Long moments passed until finally Drizzt looked away, unable to stand the familiar gaze of Entreri in that unfamiliar face.

"Why were you going to the Kingdom of Many-Arrows?" Drizzt asked, trying to gather his thoughts.

"I was heading north," Hadrian answered mildly.

Drizzt's gaze turned immediately back to the elf. Hadrian had said little more than two words since his capture. The drow ranger stared at the elf for a moment, contemplating his words.

"Where were you going if not to the Kingdom of Many-Arrows?" the ranger asked.

Hadrian heaved a great sigh, large enough to make his whole body shudder with effort. "I was heading north," he said again.

Drizzt frowned. "Is that all you will say?" he asked.

"For the answers you want, you must ask the right questions," Hadrian said. "You asked if I was heading to the Kingdom of Many-Arrows, I answered that I was heading north."

"A simple 'no' would have been easier," Drizzt said with a sigh of his own.

Hadrian shrugged, his attitude changing completely. "I have played the many word games the elves love," he said.

Drizzt leaned back against the stone wall next to the door. "Why were you going north?" he asked.

Hadrian stilled. "I am unable to say," he said. "Some answers are not to be revealed until the right time."

The drow ranger stared at the elf for a moment. Hadrian blinked slowly before closing his eyes. He leaned his head back against the wall.

"I am tired," Hadrian said. "If you have no more questions, I ask that you leave me to my rest."

Drizzt straightened. "I will take my leave then," he said. "Lord Hralien will be by shortly to speak further with you."

He turned to leave, but Hadrian's voice made him hesitate at the door.

"I will not speak with him," said the rogue. "I will tell you now to save time. I will speak only to you. Alone." Those dark eyes stared coldly at the drow ranger.

Drizzt turned to look at the rogue. Their eyes met and Drizzt was again reminded of days past when those eyes stared at him from the face of a human. Why did this elf have the same cold gaze as the assassin Drizzt remembered from so long ago?

Without another word, Drizzt left to tell Lord Hralien the rogue's message.


	4. Chapter 4

"He's still not speaking," Lord Hralien informed Drizzt a few days later.

Drizzt glanced up at the elven warrior as he approached from the prison where Hadrian was being kept. The elf looked tired.

"He is holding to his oath then," Drizzt said.

"Yes," Lord Hralien sighed.

"Then perhaps I should talk with him," Drizzt offered.

Lord Hralien looked at the drow ranger. Only a few days before, Drizzt had come to him, telling him that their prisoner would not talk to anyone but Drizzt. The ranger had mentioned how uncomfortable Hadrian made him so Hralien didn't ask Drizzt to question the rogue. But if no answers could be found, then they had no reason to hold Hadrian. Nothing but the direction he had been running indicated that he was heading toward the Kingdom of Many-Arrows, and the elf had said that he had only been heading north, not to Obould.

"Do you feel obligated since you are the only one he will speak to, or is Drizzt seeking something from his past that this rogue holds the key to?" Lord Hralien wondered aloud.

Drizzt's eyes narrowed. "Lord Hralien is looking too deeply into a shallow pool," he said. "If you need to know why he is here, I will ask."

Drizzt started toward the prison. He was annoyed, but it was because Lord Hralien had been right. Drizzt heard the elven warrior's chuckle as he passed the guards of Hadrian's prison.

Hadrian lay on his side, white hair spread over his face. His pale skin was colored with bruises and blood seeped from scrapes along his arms. But he didn't make any indication that he was in pain. In fact, Hadrian sat up, though he was slowed by the fact that his hands were still bound behind his back.

"Are you in pain?" Drizzt asked.

"Of course," Hadrian replied, though his voice was rough. "Anyone would be in pain after being beaten. Even the almighty Drizzt Do'Urden can fall when enough blood is spilled across the ground. The question is: whose blood must be spilled?" Hadrian seemed to talk more to himself than Drizzt. He coughed and stretched his legs out before him. "Or is it that the blood has already been spilled and Drizzt still remains standing, but is only a shell of his former glory trying to meet the expectations of others who still believe him to be so God-like?"

Drizzt ignored the rogue's empty stare and did what he came to do.

"Why are you in these lands?" asked the drow ranger. "Are you involved with the Casin cu Calas?"

"Honor in battle," Hadrian said quietly. His amusement was only betrayed by his voice. "From what I've heard of this band of novice warriors, 'honor' is not the right word."

"You haven't answered my questions," Drizzt said.

"You haven't asked the ones you want answers to," Hadrian said. "But I have a question for you, Drizzt Do'Urden. I will answer yours after mine is answered."

Not liking the direction of the conversation, but unable to think of a better solution, Drizzt nodded. Hadrian sighed and seemed to slump against the wall.

"I was wondering if, perhaps," Hadrian said, "I could have something to eat? And water to sooth my throat? I may not be answering the questions of the elves of Glimmerwood, but torture taxes the voice much faster than speaking."

Drizzt blinked at the elf. He hadn't expected such a request. He stared for a moment at Hadrian, noting the dark skin under the elf's eyes. Had Lord Hralien neglected this prisoner as if he were already guilty? Hadrian seemed to read the expression Drizzt was fighting off.

"I am a rogue," he said. "Rogues are nothing but misfit delinquents in the eyes of those who do not know of our ways. To an outsider, I am nothing but a moving force of chaos that must be stopped before someone is hurt. If I will not give information from being beaten, perhaps my will is weak enough for a little starvation to loosen my lips. I assure you, I will die before I betray my oaths, even if I must suffer until the end. Starvation is not the tactic to use if you wish for me to offer the information I have."

Though the words were harsh and judgmental, they were true. Drizzt knew that people believed what they liked about others from the way someone looked or lived. Being a dark elf, Drizzt knew that prejudice better than most.

"I will see what I can do," Drizzt said quietly.

"Thank you."

Drizzt paused, glancing back at the rogue. Hadrian still wore his blank mask, but his eyes were filled with relief. Had he expected Drizzt to ignore him?

Drizzt shook his head in confusion as he went to find Lord Hralien and make the request. He found Lord Hralien pampering Sunrise, the pegasus and faithful companion of the elven lord. Sunrise stomped a foot and snorted a greeting as the drow approached. Lord Hralien looked at him, a look of curiosity clear on his face.

"He is requesting food and water," Drizzt said.

"Requesting or demanding?" Lord Hralien asked.

"He asked," said the drow ranger. "But he also said that starvation tactics will not gain you the information you want."

"More flies with honey," Lord Hralien murmured. He shook his head and turned back to his task. "Have Sharalaer find him a suitable meal."

Drizzt nodded and thanked Lord Hralien before turning to find the half-elf and get something to eat for Hadrian.

***

He returned to the prison with a small tray of bread, cheese, and meat in one hand and a mug of water in the other. Drizzt set them down on the floor in front of Hadrian and stepped back.

"Is this a new form of torture?" Hadrian asked. "Are you going to feed me, or will I be allowed to be free from my bonds?"

Drizzt thought a moment. "Will you try to escape?"

"It would be foolish," Hadrian said. "Even if I were to best you unarmed, I would fall to the excellent marksmanship of the Moonwood archers."

"You are correct," Drizzt said.

"It is truth," Hadrian said. "But truth does not provide a solution to my problem."

"I will let your hands free," Drizzt said.

But as he approached to until the elf's hands, Hadrian shifted a little and brought his hands forward, the rope that had been around his wrists dangled from his outstretched hand. Drizzt couldn't hide his surprise as Hadrian held he rope out to him.

"You said it was all right," Hadrian said.

"Your skills are formidable," Drizzt said as he took the rope. "I shall try to never underestimate you."

Hadrian shrugged and turned his attention to the mug of water. He drained half of it before setting it down with a sigh. He picked up the loaf of bread and tore it in half, offering one half to the drow ranger. Drizzt looked at him with suspicion. Hadrian's steady hand held the bread out to Drizzt, the gesture not matching the cold stare from the elf's eyes.

"I'm a rogue, not a cold-hearted bastard," Hadrian said. "You look as if I am offering you a poisonous spider."

"This is your meal," Drizzt said.

"As you will," Hadrian said. He lowered his hand and brought the once offered piece of bread and added a piece of cheese and a bit of meat and began to eat. He was very precise and his movements were graceful. After a few bites, the elf took another sip of water and looked up at Drizzt.

"You may ask your questions," said the rogue. "Though I can not promise to answer them all."

"Why not?" asked Drizzt.

Hadrian looked up with empty eyes. "I would not gain much business if I gave information about those who hired me, would I?"

Drizzt nodded. "So you are here on business," he said. "What business have you been hired for?"

Hadrian smirked. Drizzt felt a chill of recognition. That little twitch of the lips had reminded him of the assassin knew so long ago. It was the same smirk that Entreri had worn when he was enjoying himself.

"That is not the question you want to ask," Hadrian said.

"Do you know well the thoughts I have?" Drizzt asked.

Hadrian's eyes flashed with some unknown emotion, then closed off. The elf stared at Drizzt for a long moment before turning his gaze down to the floor. He stretched his legs out before him, finding a comfortable position.

"I know many things," Hadrian finally said. "I know that the choice of good or evil is perspective. If a man steals food, then he is punished as a thief, and then his family, whom he stole the food for, starves. It is all about intent."

Drizzt couldn't argue the logic. He had seen this scenario play out himself. The elf relaxed back against the wall of his prison.

"You have not answered my question," Drizzt said. "In fact, you have not been very informative about anything."

Hadrian closed his eyes. "The legend of Drizzt Do'Urden still lives in the minds of those who heard tales from their father's father," he said. "I have heard the expliots of the Companions of the Hall. I heard the tales of tragedy and triumph."

Drizzt settled himself on the floor, far enough to have time to rise if the rogue decided to attack. "So you believe you know me through those tales," he said.

"Of course not," Hadrian said. "I would be fool to believe I could know Drizzt Do'Urden through outlandish tales. I was told you could run so fast that time itself was stopped. I heard tales that you summoned demons to aid you in your battles, that fire could not touch you, and that you could appear and disappear into thin air without the aid of magic." The elf smiled. "But I believe not a word of that. You run fast, surely due to the magical anklets you wear. Demons do not obey your call, but that large panther from the Astral Plane does. The sword you carry, the one you call Icingdeath, is a Frostbrand, granting you imunity to fire, to an extent. And, though you can not disappear or appear, you can use shadows and skills you have gained through drow teachings to seem as if you do."

"You know much about me, but still you have not provided me with anything about yourself save your name," Drizzt said.

"Do you wish to know of Hadrian Twilight?" asked the rogue.

Drizzt gave the elf a curious stare. "You would tell me if I only ask."

Hadrian opened his eyes and stared at Drizzt for a moment. That cold stare, those gray eyes, bore into Drizzt, almost daring him to ask. The drow ranger hoped that if he could get the rogue to open up a little more, perhaps he could discover the reason for his presence in the Glimmerwood.

"Tell me," Drizzt finally said. "Who is Hadrian Twilight?"

Hadrian smiled, a wide grin that seemed odd against the cold stare of his dark eyes. "That is a good question," the rogue said as he lifted the mug of water to drink before opening his mouth to tell his tale.


	5. Chapter 5

The city of Waterdeep had once been a thriving place. Ships entered and left port full of goods that traveled up and down the coast. But it changed with the spread of the Spellplague. The once grand city was turned into a shelter of sorts, a safe haven for those who had lost so much. It was still full of people, but they no longer thrived. A sense of despair had entered the bones of those who lived there. Hope seemed a distant memory.

Strangers who entered the city were met with suspicion. Few could survive the harsh lands between the safe havens of cities. With monsters and highwaymen thick in the wilds, most people traveled in large caravans with many guards. So when a lone traveler approached the gates to the south an hour before dusk, the guards called for their captain while the stranger was still yards from shouting distance.

Captain Evan Jenkins joined his guards at the top of the wall. He was an imposing man, over six feet tall with wide, muscled shoulders. He was a fierce fighter and a cunning strategist. He stood at the top of the wall, looking down at the lone figure that approached from the south. A competent man, Jenkins was immediately suspicious since no one traveled alone through the wilds. But the gates were securely closed and a soldier with a longbow stood at his side, the figure in his sights. It was hard to discern the identity of the person. A dark cloak and hood covered the figure completely.

"Halt and be recognized!" Captain Jenkins called down.

The figure stopped. "A traveler seeking shelter before the sun sinks too low," called a male voice.

Jenkins was surprised by the melodic tone. He narrowed his eyes and leaned over the wall a little. "Lower your hood," he said.

A gloved hand appeared from the folds of the cloak to tip back the hood. Jenkins blinked with surprise as the figure revealed turned out to be an elf. Pale pointed ears arose from the locks of snow white hair. Jenkins was curious as to why an elf would wander to the fallen city. Looking to the west, Jenkins could plainly see that the sun was setting, and the land would become even more deadly at night.

"My name is Tararin," called the elf. "I do not wish to have trouble in your fair city, but the night grows near and I am weary from my journey."

Captain Jenkins nodded to the guardsmen at the gate. They released the lever and allowed the gate to open. Captain Jenkins joined the elf at the door, greeting him with a smile to hide his suspicion. Elves had become secluded in their forests and cities.

As the gate closed once more behind him, the elf smiled back at Jenkins. The gray eyes of the elf met the cool blue of the captain's gaze. Jenkins saw no malice reflected in those dark orbs, in fact, he didn't see much of any emotion. They were empty, even if his face was smiling.

"Thank you for allowing me entrance," Tararin said. "Could I bother you for directions to the nearest inn?"

"I'll take you there myself," Captain Jekins said.

"I would be honored," Tararin said.

The elf bowed slightly, not taking his dark gaze from the captain of the guard. Jenkins took note that the glint of a sword hilt peeked from the folds of the cloak. He motioned for a pair of guards for follow as he started down the street with Tararin beside him.

"What brings you here, elf?" Captain Jenkins asked.

Tararin spoke softly as he answered. "I am on my way to visit an old friend," he said.

"Alone?" Jenkins asked. "It's a dangerous road."

"I am prepared for many things, including highwaymen and goblins who believe a lone traveler is easy prey," Tararin said. "But I grew weary of keeping constant vigilance while I tried to rest."

Jenkins motioned to a solemn looking, two-story building. The sign, faded from time, said "Tom's Tavern" in barely discernible lettering. Tararin bowed his head in thanks and entered the establishment. Captain Jenkins waited for the elf's back to disappear before turning to his guards and telling them to keep an eye on the newcomer.

Tom's Tavern looked run down on the outside, but inside was clean and filled with patrons drinking and conversing with each other. The lower floor was a tavern, but the upstairs was an inn that housed the traders of caravans.

Tararin weaved expertly through the tables toward the bar. Tom stood behind it, wiping the counter top with a rag. He was bald, with a promising pot-belly, and shrewd dark eyes. Tom watched the elf approach with suspicion. Tararin placed his hands on the bar top, showing that he meant no harm.

After negotiating a price for a meal and a room for the night, Tararin settled down at a table set in a corner. He took note of the guards sitting by the door, watching him without concern for being seen. The nervous patrons glanced his way, not trusting strangers, even and elf. The young maiden serving tables quickly brought his drink, set it down, and made a hasty retreat to serve other patrons. Tararin made no move to cause trouble. In fact, he barely moved at all before the serving wench brought his meal.

But for as much trouble as Tararin didn't seem to want to cause, in the drunken minds of the locals, his presence alone was fault enough to drive him out. Among those whispering at the table of conspirators was a largely muscled young man. James Lockhart, son of Governor Lockhart, drunkenly plotted against the elf.

And Tararin seemed oblivious. He finished his meal and stood without a word.

***

As the elf settled in for the night, he seemed completely oblivious of the danger just outside the door of his room. He stripped off his cloak and laid the dark blue cloth over the end of the small bed that occupied the room. His belts were next, one containing a pair of short swords on on either hip, and the other holding his belt pouch and a beautifully jeweled dagger. He set the belts gently on the cloak. He stripped off his mithril shirt before stretching his arms up, rising up to his full height.

But a noise caught his attention. His ear turned toward the door where a fumbling drunkard stumbled down the hallway. Tararin relaxed a little and glided toward the door, heading to offer assistance to the drunk. As he opened the door though, only his quick reflexes saved him from a hard blow to the head from a mace. Tararin ducked low, kicking out and connecting with his attacker's knee. The sickening crack of bone was drowned out by the scream of pain form the man. The man fell, his pain filled moans echoing down the hall, cradling his knee and rolling on the floor.

Heavy, stumbling footsteps retreated quickly alerted Tararin that he had more than one attacker. He saw the retreating backs of two men and took off after them. As the unfortunate pair reached the top of the stairs, Tararin easily caught up to them and, with a swift kick to one man's back, sent them both tumbling down the stairway and to the tavern below. They lay in a groaning heap on the floor as the patrons of Tom's Tavern silenced, looking at the display of stupidity laid out before them. Another form tumbled down the stairs to lay in a heap with the other two.

At the top of the stairs, Tararin brushed his hands together as if he were wiping away dirt. I stared coldly at the three men on the floor.

"I apologize for disrupting you," said the elf, addressing the room. "I beg, take this trash out; I am much too weary to continue."

The patrons stared as Tararin turned and went back to his room. The two guards glanced at each other and quietly followed the elf. Tararin entered his room and closed the door. The guards knew that the room had no window and the only exit was the door. They stationed themselves outside of the doorway to make sure the elf didn't leave. Through the night, not a sound was heard from inside the room.

***

The next morning, cries of murder rang in the streets. Governor Lockhart and his son were found dead in their beds. Everyone wanted to know who and why, but no answers came. The investigation was short lived, though. The late Governor's brother took the title and began to calm the people.

In the inn, the two guards started awake from their dreams as the new governor appeared before them, demanding entry to the room. After all, the elf was a stranger, and perhaps the assassin who had killed the late Governor and his son over a drunken dispute. But as the door clattered open, they found the room was empty. The elf was gone, and his pack was missing.


	6. Chapter 6

"So you killed those men?" Drizzt asked.

"I was hired to kill them," Hadrian admitted without a trace of guilt. "Corruption festered in the wounds of Waterdeep. It was nurtured by the late Governer's actions and inactions with the scum of the streets. His son was an obnoxious oaf who used his father's power to rape and imprison the innocent. Waterdeep was slowly dying under the crush of filth."

"You killed them out of the goodness of your heart," Drizzt said, not quite believing that was the case but still holding on to the lingering hope that it was.

"No, I killed them because that was what I was paid to do," Hadrian said. "Does that make me evil? Or does killing men who use power for greed and corruption make me a hero?"

Drizzt shook his head and stood. "You were paid to do those things. You would kill anyone for profit. It is you who is corrupted by greed."

The ranger turned to leave. Hadrian spoke as he reached the door.

"Perhaps," the rogue elf said quietly. "But if I hadn't needed food to fill my belly and new boots to replace the old ones, I might not have taken the job."

Drizzt turned, purple eyes narrowed. "You are a rogue," he said. "You would have taken the job for the money."

Hadrian shook his head sadly. "Drizzt Do'Urden has excellent hearing but never listens," he said.

Drizzt turned and left the prison. The drow was shaken by the rogue's words; they felt like truth.

***

Lord Hralein sighed as Drizzt went out on patrol again. A week had passed since the ranger had spoken with the prisoner. After speaking with the rogue, Drizzt had seemed shaken. Hralien wondered what the rogue had said to rattle the drow so much.

Sharalaer appeared beside the elven lord. The young half-elf watched Drizzt's back as he disappeared into the forest.

"Hadrian still doesn't speak except to say thank you when I bring him meals," she said softly. "He is very polite."

"You have been calling the rogue by his name," Lord Hralien observed.

Sharalaer didn't seem ashamed at the elf's accusing tone. "The only thing we can hold him for is the murder of two men in Waterdeep," she said. "And from what Drizzt says, Hadrian killed for profit, but also for a good reason."

"We have heard no word back from the Waterdhavian Governor," Lord Hralien said. "To confirm or dispute the rogue's story."

"I do not think Hadrian has lied," Sharalaer said after a moment.

Hralien looked at her, eyebrow ached with curiosity. The half-elf nodded her chin--a very human gesture--toward the forest where Drizzt had disappeared.

"Drizzt believes this rogue tells the truth as well," she said. She smiled gently. "Hadrian has nothing to lose or gain by lying to us. His eyes never waver and, though his gaze is cold, it is honest. Though his hands remain unbound, he has done nothing against me or those guarding him, as he promised."

Lord Hralien shook his head with a frustrated sigh. "We are still no closer to finding out his intentions."

Sharalaer smiled a little. "Hadrian frustrates you," she said.

Hralien nodded, unable to dispute the half-elf's words. "I must ask Drizzt to get more information from him," he said.

"I do not think you need to ask," Sharalaer said, motioning to the dark figure appearing from the forest near the prison. Drizzt entered with a nod to the guards.

"Perhaps he will find something important this time," Hralien said.

***

The rogue was lounging back against the wall of his prison when Drizzt entered. His gray eyes were closed, but the ranger knew that Hadrian was aware of his presence.

"Tell me, why do you play such games?" Drizzt asked as he settled himself on the floor, still remaining far enough to defend himself if the rogue decided to attack.

Hadrian cracked open an eye, looking completely relaxed in his posture. "Games?" he asked. "I have played no games. I could if you like. A wager with information as the prize."

The rogue sat up and smirked. It was different from the one he remembered Entreri having, but still familiar.

"What wager?" Drizzt asked.

"Anything," Hadrian said. "Perhaps a contest of speed? Surely you could win that with your enchanted anklets. Or skill? We seemed to be evenly matched in our first meeting." The rogue's smirk grew. "Or maybe we can leave it to chance. A roll of dice to decide who asks and who answers."

"I have no dice," Drizzt admitted.

Hadrian waved a dismissive hand, yet another gesture that didn't seem to fit Entreri but still remained familiar. "I have plenty," he said. "If I would be allowed to have my pack, I will retrieve them. Nothing more, on my oath."

"The dice of a rogue never roll for chance."

Hadrian shrugged. "If you have a better idea, I'd like to hear it," he said.

"I will find a die," the drow said. He turned away from the elf and fulfilled his promise. He returned to Hadrian's cell with the die and sat on the floor a few feet from the rogue.

"Roll," Hadrian said. "If the number appearing is even, then you may ask me a question. If it is odd, then I will ask you."

Drizzt nodded and let the die fall from his hand. It bounced once, twice, before rolling toward Hadrian. It settled just a hand span from the rogue's foot.

"Well, this should be interesting," Hadrian said, his voice betraying the amusement that his black face hid.


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry about the delay, everyone. I got caught up in some personal stuff and needed to take a break. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and demanded more. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to post this story and I'm glad you all like it.

So without further ado, I give you some more stuff to read.

--K

* * *

Drizzt left the prison a few hours after dark, shaking his head with amusement and tossing the die in the air and catching it without even glancing at the small cube.

"Finding a companion with someone slated to die?"

Drizzt's gaze shifted toward the voice to his left. Lord Hralien approached silently. His lips were set in a hard line but nothing else betrayed his frustration.

"I was gaining information," Drizzt said. "Hadrian was involved in a lot more before he arrived here. He has been assassinating people for the better good throughout Toril."

"So he murders often," Hralien murmured. "And murder is murder."

Drizzt felt his smile waver and fade. "From what he has told me, the people he killed were corrupt and murderers themselves. He kills to protect the innocent people. Do we not do the same to protect this forest and the peace we have?"

Lord Hralien shook his head, denying what he knew was truth. "It is not the same," he said. Drizzt thought that the elf was speaking more to himself than to him.

Drizzt walked away from Lord Hralien, heading back into the forest to think. As soon as he was well away from the elven city, he cut through the trees, heading for his favorite camping spot. He approached the place, a natural cave that cut into a hill that sank deeply into the ground. The hill and about fifteen feet in front of the entrance was clear of trees. Drizzt enjoyed sitting on top of the hill, looking up at the stars.

When he was in the clearing of his camp, Drizzt reached into his belt pouch and pulled out the familiar onyx figurine. He set it on the ground and gently called for his dearest friend. When the gray mist took shape into a six hundred pound panther, Drizzt dropped his hand onto Guenhwyvar's head. She gave him a curious look, sensing the distress in her friend.

Drizzt stared up into the sky. He wondered if he was doing the right thing. Through the many ten-days Hadrian had been captive, they had shared stories, Drizzt sharing just as many tales of adventure as Hadrian told. It brought back painful but fond memories of times past, when he had his friends and the many dangers they faced together.

But the adventure! Drizzt never regretted a single moment with Bruenor, or Regis, or Wulfgar, or Catti-brie. He had always known he would outlive every one of them by centuries, but that didn't lessen the pain he felt in his heart with each passing, or the happiness he felt when he thought about them. He never considered the past a burden, even when it seemed to weight so heavily on his heart. The sadness inevitably fell away to memories of happier times.

And yet, the past had come back again, had it not? In the form of a rogue elf named Hadrian Twilight.

Drizzt leaned against Guenhwyvar's shoulder. His most trusted friend and the only one that would surely outlive him. He didn't know how many years she had lived, how many masters she had loved or how many had treated her as a trinket and nothing more. Surely, he hoped that she would find a kind master after his bones were dust, and that she would remember him even when his name faded from the memory of people.

Guenhwyvar yawned and stretched out on her belly, nearly knocking Drizzt over as her supporting shoulder suddenly vanished from his side. If she had any idea of his thoughts, she didn't show it. She curled up beside the drow and, when that wasn't enough, the large panther rolled over and pinned Drizzt's legs under the weight of her head and chest.

Drizzt laughed and scratched the panther's neck, just where she liked it. How Guenhwyvar purred! Drizzt laughed again. He could always count on Guenhwyvar to cheer him up. The thoughts of his adventures with his friends in the past and the troubles of the present gave way as the panther demanded more attention from the drow.


	8. Chapter 8

In cities, word spread like wildfire when a newcomer arrived. In certain circles, that newcomer came with awe filled rumors and hushed conversations. As the lone elf, Shardax Shadowbane by name, sat at a small table in the corner of the tavern, all eyes glanced his way. One set of dark eyes carefully watched the elf from behind the bar.

Cohlbern Shultz kept an eye on the stranger as he wiped the counter of the bar with a dirty rag. He had heard the rumors about the elf. People whispered that Shardax was a rogue, a mercenary, and Shardax wasn't even his real name. It changed with every town he passed. Every whispered report mentioned a different name, but the description remained the same: an elf with pure white hair and cold, empty eyes, carrying a jeweled dagger and a red sword.

Cohlbern had seen those weapons before, in his youth. An immigrant of the north, his family had picked up and left Baldur's Gate when he had been no more than a toddler. His family had run south, to Calimport, where he had grown up very quickly and married the woman whose father had owned the bar before him.

He still remembered the day, when he was but a mere boy still clutching his mother's hand as she tried to haggle with a merchant, he had seen that jeweled dagger. Sixty years had passed since his eyes glimpsed the dark haired man moving through the crowd like it wasn't there. Cohlbern had caught a glimpse of the dagger hidden beneath the dark cloak of the man as he passed. The jeweled dagger disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, but Cohlbern had never forgotten.

He had learned of the man not too long after, the legend that was Artemis Entreri was well known through Calimport, though no one spoke of the man in more than a hushed whisper and only in the bright light of day. Cohlbern had never seen the man again, though the rumors said the assassin was immortal. In fact, no one had seen Artemis Entreri for years. Some wondered if the assassin hadn't simply wandered off. Others believed he had retired and changed his name and appearance to increase his anonymity.

Cohlbern now saw the elf wearing the same jeweled dagger and with the same cold eyes of a killer and wondered if perhaps the legendary immortal assassin had met his end. It was a mild curiosity, nothing more than the memories of a child resurfacing at the sight of the dagger. Though he hoped that this elf, Shardax Shadowbane, was as skilled as the assassin whose dagger he wore.

Grimfaced, Cohlbern turned his gaze toward a group of young men sitting at a table near the middle of the room. Such audacity, thought Cohlbern. The men drank and talked rapidly to each other, unaware of the bartender's acid gaze.

Cohlbern quickly averted his gaze when one of the men looked toward him. The man, pushing toward his sixty-fifth year of life, masked his anger and continued working. With a heart full of hatred and anger, Cohlbern wore a look of utter indifference as he glanced between the elf, Shardax, and the four men who would hopefully meet their ends, and soon.

It had been nearly two years, he explained quietly, since the horrible death of his beloved wife. The four men who had done it had mutilated her body and robbed her of what little money she had. They had gotten away with murder because of their fathers' influence in the city. The man wanted revenge, and he would pay any price to know those men were dead and his wife avenged.

In a place where women were barely considered citizens and men used them as they pleased, it seemed strange to find a man who cared so deeply for a woman. But Cohlbern Shultz wasn't from the city originally, and had witnessed the love his parents had for each other, even in the worst of times. So it was, when Cohlbern had found a wife, he had loved her as a partner and not a plaything. The difference in age was not a worry for them. Though she had been merely sixteen and he nearing thirty-three, they had been in love.

Shardax Shadowbane listened to the tale with hardly a change of expression. He stood against the wall of the tavern, nearly completely invisible in the gloom of the alley, while Cohlbern told his tale in hushed tones.

"I will pay you, of course," Cohlbern said, finally finishing his tale. He drew out a bag and held it out for the elf. "It's all I've got. If you need more, then I can try to get more."

Shardax held out his hand, palm up, and Cohlbern dropped the pouch into it. The elf felt the weight of the bag and estimated it to be less than what he would charge for just one corpse. He was silent for a long moment. Cohlbern shifted uncomfortably.

"I know it's foolish for me to hope that Shardax Shadowbane would accept such a pitiful reward for this task," said the man. "Especially since you carry the dagger of Artemis Entreri."

That caught the attention of the elf. Shardax lifted his gaze from the bag in his hand to the man before him, eyes narrowed.

"What do you know of Artemis Entreri and the dagger I carry?" the elf said quietly.

The melodic voice sent a cold shiver up Cohlbern's spine. He bowed politely.

"I mean no disrespect to you," he said quickly. "I just knew of the man who carried that dagger before it hung to Shardax's hip. You must be very skilled if you took it from him. His name sent many fleeing in fear and his reputation is still legendary here."

"Perhaps I found him weak in his old age and cut his throat while he slept," Shardax said.

Cohlbern nodded, unable to deny that claim, though he doubted the elf would have taken the jeweled dagger in such a way.

"You carry the dagger now, and with it, the reputation of a killer who sent many to death," Cohlbern said. "Seven hundred gold must seem a pathetic price for four men."

The elf's hand closed around the pouch of gold and it disappeared into the folds of his cloak. "I will accept this payment, for now," Shardax said. "But I require much more from you before I will take the lives of these men."

"Anything," Cohlbern said, his voice rising just a bit with delight. He quickly glanced around to see if anyone was nearby to hear.

"Now, listen closely, Cohlbern Shultz," the rogue elf murmured.

Cohlbern leaned in close to hear the elf's whispers.

Ghalid, Shakir, Rashid, and Galibd'am strode through the crowd, pushing people aside if they did not get out of the way fast enough. No one tried to fight back as the four men, sons of a very wealthy merchant, were too powerful.

Rashid saw her first, standing in a dark alley and looking over the crowd. Her body barely concealed by her light blue clothing bared her stomach, which was flat and toned. Her chest was small, but that only enhanced her beauty. Her dark hair was long and was pulled on top of her head and decorated with sparkling blue jewels.

Rashid got the attention of his brothers and they approached her. She saw them and her gray eyes widened in fear. She turned and fled, but they chased her into the darkness. She reached the end of the alley, closed off by a sheer wall.

Her back to the wall, she pressed herself as far back as she could, her eyes wild with fear and filling with tears. Ghalid grabbed her arm and pulled her, spinning, toward him, locking his arms around her waist so her back was pressed to his chest. He pushed himself lewdly against her and she cried out for help. Immediately, Rashid clapped his hand over her mouth to silence her.

Shakir and Galibd'am licked their lips in anticipation as Ghalid tugged at her shirt. She fought against him until Rashid grabbed her other arm and held it firm.

"You don't fight and we might be gentle," Galibd'am said.

His brothers laughed, but Rashid's chuckle cut short when he saw the look in the woman's eyes. She stopped struggling and stared at him without fear. The tears that had lined her eyes only moments before vanished. He saw only cold emptiness in those dark depths before she snapped her head forward and crushed his nose with her forehead. Rashid fell to the ground, stunned.

Ghalid growled in anger and, not knowing the danger he was in, tore the woman's shirt free of her body, intent on forcing himself on her before killing her. He threw her to the ground, the light blue silk of her shirt hanging from his hand.

"You will pay dearly for that," he promised.

His snarl of anger turned to confusion as the woman rolled to her back and kicked her legs skyward, snapping her body up and twisting so her feet landed on the ground and she was crouched. She stood straight and tore the veil from her face.

"That's not a woman! That's a man!" cried Shakir.

Indeed, the woman was revealed to be a man. His chest was wrapped with a pale chord that held two plums in place to give the illusion of a woman's breasts. He reached into the torn side of the skirt he wore and drew out a jeweled dagger. A globe of darkness fell over the men, blinding them to the attack, but they could still hear the screams of the others until all fell silent in the alley.

The four men were found the next day throughout Calimport. Their bodies were ripped apart and hung above the streets on strips of silken blue cloth. Their heads were found as a curious totem, stacked on top of one another and impaled upon a spear, in front of their father's home. Outwardly, the people were horrified, but deep in their minds, they were glad to be rid of the ruffians.

As for Shardax Shadowbane, he disappeared from Calimport, making an appearance only once more in the small town north of the Calimshan Desert before becoming nothing more than a horror story for children.


	9. Chapter 9

Hadrian settled back against the wall of his prison and stretched his legs out. He folded his hands over his toned stomach, the same one that had so enchanted the men in Calimport, and watched the drow's reaction to the tale. Drizzt's grimace was enough to make Hadrian smile inwardly. Outwardly, he was stone faced.

"I learned later that the merchant father of the young men discovered that Cohlbern Shultz had spoken with Shardax Shadowbane and immediately accused him of the murders," Hadrian said. "But by the time the merchant's men broke down the door the man's home, he had passed away in his sleep."

Hadrian's face softened slightly. He leaned his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling of his prison.

"I wonder," he murmured, thoughtfully. "Cohlbern held on to his anger for two years and lived a long time. When his wife was avenged, did he finally lose his purpose to live? It is curious that only a few years after I left, he died peacefully. I heard somewhere that grief can kill a widow. Perhaps it is grief that keeps them alive until they feel justice has been served."

The rogue fell silent. Drizzt watched this curious insight into the elf's mind. Did the elf consider his profession in a negative light? If so, could Drizzt steer him onto a better path, perhaps helping to defend the Glimmerwood?

Drizzt smirked a little at the thought of patrolling with the rogue. It wouldn't be unlike those times with Artemis Entreri when drow and assassin had to put aside their differences and fight together to survive against odds that would have overwhelmed them individually. Maybe this elf was Drizzt's equal, as Entreri had been. Hadrian was skilled, Drizzt had seen that much, and was quick on his feet to improvise.

Thoughts of the assassin inevitably led Drizzt to the question of his old rival's fate. Had Hadrian Twilight defeated Artemis Entreri in a duel? Or had the elf simply found the assassin weak with age and slain him in his sleep? Drizzt could well imagine that Entreri had indeed been old at his death, but not unable to put up a good fight.

"It's your turn to roll," Hadrian said, bringing Drizzt from his contemplation.

The drow blinked and focused on the rogue. He picked up the die that lay between them and stared at it for a long moment. He finally turned to the rogue elf.

"How did you kill Artemis Entreri?" Drizzt asked.

Hadrian gave the drow a frustratingly familiar smirk. "Perhaps if you roll right, I will tell you," he said.

For just an instant, Drizzt saw the cold gray depths of Hadrian's eyes sparkle with mirth. The drow tossed the die into the air and caught it.

"Lord Hralien is growing weary of your games," Drizzt commented. "If you tell me why you are here, I may be able persuade him to let you go with the promise that you never return to these lands again."

Hadrian smiled, devoid of any amusement. "When the time is right, I will tell you," he said. "Though the hospitality of the elves has been....pleasant..." He looked around the bare room and shrugged. "I have a job to do and I must complete it."

Hadrian sat up and stretched his arms above his head, creating a series of pops that cascaded down his spine. He sagged with relief and a sigh.

"It would be appreciated if I was allowed to stretch my legs under the sun," Hadrian said. "I am hardly claustrophobic, but these walls are becoming mundane and my legs ache and cramp. If I must be under guard, then so be it. Tell your Lord Hralien this, and perhaps I will consider telling my final tale."

Drizzt thought for a moment and stood. "I will speak with Lord Hralien, though I guarantee nothing."

"I never expected you to," Hadrian said. Drizzt turned and left the prison, never seeing the smile the elf displayed behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun felt warm on Hadrian's upturned face. The elf basked in the light, blatently ignore the score of elven warriors surrounding him at all times from the trees. Drizzt stood nearby, his panther companion sitting beside him. Hadrian took a few minutes to just breathe the open air and take in the scent of the forest.

They stood in silence for a long time before Hadrian finally turned to Drizzt and bowed graciously, looking like a parody of royalty in only his torn trousers.

"I must thank you, Drizzt Do'Urden," he said. "Your ability to grant wishes is incredible."

"Lord Hralien wants answers," Drizzt said.

And answers he shall have, but not right now," Hadrian said, quickly. "My final tale is for your ears only."

The elf met Drizzt's eyes and some of the emptiness melted into sadness. Drizzt wondered if Hadrian felt he would be executed after telling his last story. Drizzt almost felt pity for the elf.

The elf turned to the large panther and crouched down, holding out his hand in a silent offering of friendship. The cat padded forward and sniffed his hand curiously, ears laid cautiously back. Drizzt watched with amusement as Guenhwyvar decided that Hadrian wasn't a threat and proceeded to knock him onto his back as she came forward to be petted.

Hadrian gave a startled yelp and then laughed as Guenhwyvar's intentions were clarified. He obliged and scratched behind her ears and ruffled the fur on her great neck. Drizzt smiled as he watched her at play with the elf, who seemed to get younger as he watched. How old was Hadrian? the drow wondered. Drizzt realized at that moment that the elf had not yet reached his first century.

It was kind of sad, when Drizzt thought about it.

Hadrian returned to his prison after only an hour in the sun and at play. He assured Drizzt that the tale would take the rest of the day to tell the final part of his story. Elf and drow sat comfortably in the dim room. Guenhwyvar settled comfortably at the drow's back and yawned.

"I believe this last story will answer your questions as to who Hadrian Twilight is," the elf said.

"And why you're here," Drizzt prompted.

"Yes, after the story," the elf said, nodding. "Everything will be explained."

Hadrian settled back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and began.


	11. Chapter 11

Artemis Entreri had lived longer than he ever dreamed. He felt every day in his bones, all twenty-six years past the century since he first took breath. Yet his body remained younger. He looked no older than fifty, with gray hair edging his temples and lines creasing his face at the corners of his eyes.

It was the shade that did it to him. He cursed the shade and the drow who had dragged him into the mess in the first place. Most of all, he cursed the jeweled dagger that was his trademark. He had outlived his dearest friend Dwahvel Tiggerwillies, and feared that he would live another century or more before his body finally gave out. He became reclusive, hardly venturing out from the dark hole he called his home. No one bothered him and he preferred it that way.

So when a knock came to his door, he was more than a little surprised, and ever suspicious. He kept a hand on the hilt of his dagger as he quickly worked through the traps set on his door. His nimble fingers moved with practiced ease and safely disengaged every trap before he opened the door.

Artemis Entreri never suspected that behind his door was the shock of his life, or that it would be the beginning of his end.

* * *

A child, no more than seven years old, stood in the darkness of the Calimport night. He shivered and hugged his arms around his thin shoulders. Artemis Entreri looked the boy over and could hardly fathom the reason why the boy had appeared.

The boy wore a fine, dark tunic and pants over chain mail. His belt was adorned with a pair of long daggers. Three golden hoops hung from each ear and a large, dark pendant hung about his neck.

"Artemis Entreri?" the boy asked slowly, looking the old man over, large eyes filled with curiosity and just a hint of trepidation.

Entreri recognized those eyes. They were the eyes of a boy who had survived in a hostile place. They were the eyes of a child on the verge of losing every ounce of innocence. Those eyes were the same as Entreri's once upon a time.

The boy took Entreri's silence as confirmation and reached into the pocket of his fine tunic. He pulled out a piece of parchment. It was folded and sealed with a glob of wax. His name was on it in familiar handwriting. Entreri nearly threw the letter back at the boy and demanded that he leave, but something stopped him. He wondered why this letter had come without the writer and, instead, in the hands of a child.

He glanced at the boy, who stood shivering in the cold, night air. He motioned the boy inside and closed the door, resetting all the traps. He turned to find the boy sitting calmly in the center of the room, perfectly comfortable in the dimly lit house.

Entreri lit a candle, noticing the boy squint into the flames, as if light had never before stung his eyes. Perhaps they hadn't, if the letter was any indication. The assassin broke the seal on the letter and, watching the boy from the corner of his eye, silently read the thin, elegant handwriting.

At then end of the letter, Entreri sat down hard in his chair. His face fell into his hand and the letter fluttered to the floor. The boy watched its descent before turning his gray eyes to the assassin. Deep shadows cut across the man's face from the candle's flickering light. Silence descended for a handful of long minutes, until Entreri finally turned to the boy.

"Is he...?" Entreri's words were forced past his lips.

"Dead? No. He is quite well," the boy answered, speaking slowly once more. "If you're asking about the truth to his words, I assure you, they are very true. He has been telling me of my heritage since before I could understand his words."

Entreri shook his head in denial. "Impossible," he murmured. "It is impossible. _You _are impossible."

The boy smiled, a grin that Entreri recognized as surely as he knew the curved handwriting he had just read.

"Yet, here I am, sitting right in front of you, Grandfather."


	12. Chapter 12

Hadrian smirked as Drizzt's eyes widened with the revelation. Drizzt stared at the elf, finally seeing the similarities between the assassin and Hadrian in more than just the same dark, cold eyes. It was impossible, yet, as the young boy had stated to Artemis Entreri, here he was, sitting right in front of him.

Hadrian was thoroughly enjoying the drow's reaction. He wondered if Drizzt would simply drop dead with shock at the end of his tale. He continued to smile and let Drizzt gather his wits.

"You are the grandson of Artemis Entreri?" Drizzt asked incredulously.

"I am," replied the elf. "You see, long ago Artemis Entreri fell in love--well, maybe lust is a better word--with a woman named Calihye. She was half-elf. When she tried to kill him, he threw her out of a window. Jarlaxle..." Hadrian paused and raised an eyebrow. "You do remember Jarlaxle, do you not?"

Drizzt nodded, still trying to wrap his mind around the information Hadrian was giving him. Entreri's grandchild!

"Jarlaxle rescued her from dying slowly in the streets," the elf continued. "But she was already pregnant by the time he took her in, with my mother.

"Jarlaxle never told him Calihye bore a child from his loins," Hadrian said. "Calihye threw herself from a cliff when my mother was barely old enough to walk. She looked very much like him, my mother did. I suppose Calihye couldn't stand the sight of her."

Drizzt scrutinized the elf. Hadrian sat up a little more comfortably and cleared his throat.

"Artemis Entreri asked me many of the same questions that are going through your head," he said.

"How does Hadrian Twilight know my thoughts?" Drizzt asked.

"You are incredibly like him," Hadrian realied, and his tone meant that he believed his words to be true. "I will answer those questions in time, I assure you. For now, I believe my stomach is getting angry with me. Lunch would be most appreciated, and I will tell you the rest of the tale while we eat."

Drizzt nodded and stood, slowly moving as if in a daze. He still could not believe he was talking to a descendant of Artemis Entreri. He walked from the prison, Guenwhyvar following him silently.

He sent the panther to rest in her home on the Astral Plane. He decided that if this elf was in fact who he claimed to be, then Guen would be needed later if he made an attempt at escape.

Drizzt entered the prison carrying a pair of waterskins and a tray filled with food. He settled himself down once more and set the tray between them. Hadrian took a drink and began his tale again, speaking between mouthfuls.

* * *

The boy answered every question Artemis Entreri could think to ask, which became many as the night wore into morning. It wasn't until the noise of the city carried through the cracks in the walls that the assassin fell silent in thought. He stared at the boy sitting on the floor in front of him. The boy's face was perfectly blank, but Entreri could see that it was nothing more than a mask to cover his concern at the silence.

Many minutes passed before Entreri asked, "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to know the great assassin I had always heard of," the boy said. "Every day my ears filled with tales of Artemis Entreri's skills and abilities. I heard of your many victories, as well as your losses against a drow renegade."

Entreri winced at the mention of his biggest rival. The boy continued to speak as if he didn't see the assassin's reaction.

"I have heard many stories," the boy said. "But I want to know more. I want to know everything about Artemis Entreri, so I can be a great man like him."

"And what will you do it Artemis Entreri is not the man you believe him to be?" the assassin asked.

"Then I will learn from his mistakes," said the boy as he puffed out his thin chest. "I will be the greatest assassin."

"You have a long ways to go before you claim that title, boy," Entreri said, calmly.

"But most of all," the boy murmured quietly, "I wish to hear of my grandfather."

They stared at each other for a long time. The boy's wide, innocent eyes, not yet scarred by the world, reminded Entreri that he was dealing with a child. Entreri's look hardened as his thoughts became clearer. If the boy wanted to know how to be like Artemis Entreri, then the assassin would oblige.

"I will tell you everything, on one condition," Entreri added as the boy's face brightened. "You will do something for me, a favor, and you will do it without question. If you do not, I will kill you."

The boy's gray eyes widened, but he nodded, eager to hear about the assassin. "What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"I will tell you after I've finished," Entreri said, leaning back in his chair. "Will you do this favor if I tell you the story?"

Entreri watched as the boy nodded, enthusiastically. The boy sat up straighter and watched the assassin intently, as if memorizing every movement. Entreri smiled a little, thinking that eager look would disappear if only the boy knew. He pushed that thought away and began to dreg up memories he had long ago suppressed and locked away.

He took a breath and began, "I was born in Memnon..."


	13. Chapter 13

"I won't bore you with the details," Hadrian said. "It was a very long story."

The rogue took a drink from the waterskin and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Drizzt's lavender eyes watched every movement with more caution now that he knew who this elf was.

"He told me of his childhood, his rise to power, the hunt for the halfling, and his defeat by the hand of a drow renegade," Hadrian continued, seeming unaware of Drizzt's scrutiny. "He told me everything. And then he told me his favor."

"What was the favor?" Drizzt asked.

Hadrian ran a hand through his white hair and rested back against the wall of his prison, putting his hands behind his head.

* * *

When the tale finished, the boy's dark eyes were wide with wonder. His grandfather heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair, staring out of the dusty window at the coming twilight. The boy watched the assassin with curiosity as the man who had told him such a wonderful tale of adventure.

Artemis Entreri, who seemed to be bodily young, turned his gray eyes to the boy. Those eyes were aged beyond what any human should have been. The boy waited patiently as Entreri spoke once more.

"Now that you have heard my tale, you must do me a favor."

The boy nodded. He had agreed to the favor in exchange for the story. The boy looked at Entreri with his large almond shaped, gray eyes. A pained look crossed the assassin's face for a brief instant.

"Take my sword, boy, and take my dagger." The words were calm. "Take my jeweled dagger and plunge it into my heart. Take my life into yourself."

The boy took a moment to recall those words. His eyes widened in fear and he shook his head in denial, the white locks of his shoulder length hair brushing his cheeks. Entreri's cold eyes narrowed.

"You swore on pain of death to do me a favor."

The boy's eyes stung with unshed tears. He had just met this amazing man only three days before and listened to the tale of his life. He didn't want to kill his grandfather. But he couldn't go back on his word. He had heard what the dagger would do when it pierced flesh. He didn't want his grandfather to suffer the horror of the dagger's blade.

The dagger in question appeared in Entreri's hand, the hilt offered to the boy. His hand shook as he reached for the blade. A glance into Entreri's cold, dark eyes was enough. The boy understood. The man wanted to die. He had lived longer than he should have, seen more than he wanted, experienced life and love, pain and death. Though tears trickled down his cheeks, the boy stood firm and held the dagger ready to strike.

"You are strong, so much stronger than I am," his grandfather said, tiredly. "Take my weapons, for they are all that is left of me and all I can give you."

The boy nodded and glanced at the sword leaning against the table nearby. The red blade had seen the assassin through many battles and the boy knew it would see many more before he was through.

"And tell that treacherous father of yours that he was right," his grandfather added quietly, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "That should please him."

The boy nodded as his hand moved forward. He felt the dagger plunge into his grandfather's chest, piercing his heart. He heard the sharp gasp of Entreri's last breath as the pull of the magical dagger sucked his life from him. He felt the creep of the assassin's life force slide along his body, settling in his bones. When the sensation ebbed away, he pulled the dagger from his grandfather's chest. He wiped the blood from the blade onto his tunic and took the sheath from his grandfather's lifeless hand. Wiping away the last tears he was going to shed, the boy turned away from the hollow shell of a once great assassin, picked up the lethal sword leaning against the table, and left the small ramshackle house. His footsteps were silent--years of practice and perfect balance--as he made his way to the waypoint where he was to meet his father. The alley behind what was once the Copper Ante was dark and empty. The halfling establishment was silent and dark as well, the people having long ago abandoned the building. The boy waited silently, knowing his father would know he was there.

Somehow he always knew...


	14. Chapter 14

"Who is your father, then, if Entreri was your grandfather?" asked Drizzt. The drow ranger had been listening intently, wanting to know how his great rival had fallen. It seemed the assassin had committed a form of suicide. And he had murdered the innocence of a young boy while he was at it.

"I'll get to that," Hadrian said, patting the air as if to ward off the question. "Let me ask you something. How old are you?"

"I'm nearing two centuries," Drizzt said after a moment of calculation. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because at first, I wondered why Artemis Entreri wanted to die," the rogue said. He leaned forward, rubbing his back to ease the ache from leaning against the stone. "Humans live for less than a century. They live quickly, too quickly compared to us. Truly, no one wants to die, but a human is expected to live for less than a century. We are not, unless a sword or spear finds our hearts, so we live slowly, in moments. You are just considered an adult, while I am still a child. To humans, we are old relatively speaking, but we do not feel it. Not yet."

Hadrian settled himself back against the wall and gave a sad sigh. "But for Artemis Entreri, who never expected to live so long, life became tedious. Boredom set in because he didn't know how to life as we do. His body remained young, but he felt so old. He was dying long before I met him. I just finished the inevitable before someone else caught him unawares."

Drizzt nodded, understanding what the elf was saying about Artemis Entreri. He remembered a similar conversation with an elf of the Moonwood named Innovindil long ago. She had helped him discover what it was to be an elf.

"So what of your father?" the drow asked, coming back to that question once again.

Hadrian smirked and dropped his chin to his hand. "That is where I become quite impossible," he said, vaguely. "You already know that my mother was the result of a half-elf and a human, and that such a union with a child produced shouldn't exists. My mother was a quarter elf, and my father..."

Hadrian smiled and sat up straight. He held up his hand and examined it. Drizzt's eyes followed the slow turn of the elf's hand, the play of muscles as he curled his fingers.

"I will tell you everything now, Drizzt Do'Urden," the rogue elf said finally. "But listen to me all the way through before you make judgements.

"I was hired by the Casin cu Calas. I said wait," Hadrian quickly added before Drizzt could draw his scimitars. The drow's face immediately turned to anger. How betrayed Drizzt felt! He had tried to defend Hadrian's way of life and the murders he had committed, and now he discovered that the rogue was exactly what Lord Hralien thought him to be.

"I was not sent to kill any orcs from the Kingdom of Many-Arrows."

The elf's left hand, which had fallen to his hip, came up in a blur. Drizzt was on his feet in an instant with scimitars drawn. At the same time, he felt the sting in his neck. Immediatly, cold numbness spread through his limbs. Drizzt turned his lavender eyed glare to the rogue elf as he tried to fight off the numbing effects of the poison.

Drizzt's eyes widened when he saw a familiar mask in the rogue's hand. He had used it himself once long ago to look like a surface in order to save his halfling friend, Regis. He, along with his friend Wulfgar, had stolen it from the lair of a banshee. Her tricks had nearly cost both him and Wulfgar their lives, but they had managed to escape with little injury to themselves or the banshee.

That was when he had been chasing after Artemis Entreri. The assassin had taken Regis to Calimport and returned him to the vile Pasha Pook there. Entreri had set a trap for the drow, but somehow he had escaped. They had faced off in the sewers below the city and unleashed their anger on each other. It had been one of the most vicious battles Drizzt had fought one-on-one with someone.

An arm guided him silently to the floor as his knees gave under his weight. Drizzt felt his limbs freeze under the effects of a poison he had not experienced in a very, very long time.

"Drow poison," Hadrian said, quietly. Drizzt couldn't even glare as he was gently place onto the floor of the prison. "Don't ask me how I managed to hide it. You're better off not knowing."

Hadiran pulled Icingdeath and Twinkle from the drow ranger's failing grasp, setting them gently on the ground so they didn't make any sound. Cold, gray eyes stared down into Drizzt's lavender orbs. They were the eyes of a killer. Drizzt fought hard against the poison, but his body wouldn't respond. He was completely paralyzed.

Hadrian looked down at the paralyzed drow and smiled disarmingly before saying, "I was sent here to kill you, Drizzt Do'Urden."


	15. Chapter 15

Drizzt Do'Urden walked from Hadrian's prison, slowly. He had a frown fixed on his dark face. Lord Hralien approached the drow ranger, wondering if any information had been gained about the rogue elf. Immediately, Lord Hralien knew something was amiss from the look on Drizzt's face. Those lavender eyes were narrowed with thought.

"What new story fell from the liar's lips this time?" asked Lord Hralien.

Drizzt turned to the elf lord. "He was hired by the Night Riders to kill me," the drow ranger said.

Lord Hralien's eyes widened. He turned toward the prison and frowned, wondering how the rogue would manage to return to the murdering band with Drizzt's head. Surely, the elf rogue knew it was impossible.

"He will not be meeting with those murderers," Lord Hralien said, finally. "He will be put to death. Word came in not ten minutes ago about his exploits in the west and south." He turned to the drow and smiled. Drizzt did not match his look.

"Will you go to this meeting with the Night Riders?" Lord Hralien asked, finally noting the cold look in the drow ranger's eyes.

"I will," Drizzt said, calmly.

Lord Hralien nodded. "We will be ready within one hour," he said.

Drizzt shook his head and said, "I will go alone. They have chosen to make this a personal attack against me."

He turned and walked away from Lord Hralien, determination in every step. Lord Hralien watched the ranger's back disappear from view around a building. Something bothered him about Drizzt, something odd in the way he acted. Had the rogue's news shaken the ranger? With a glance toward the prison, the elf lord decided to double the guard and prepare his warriors to follow Drizzt. On impulse, he sought out Sharalaer. He found her grooming her horse.

"I see you, Lord Hralien," Sharalaer greeted.

"Well met, Sharalaer," Lord Hralien said. "I have need of you. Drizzt discovered the rogue's intent and I believe it unsettled him. I want you to follow to make sure he doesn't do anything foolish."

He told the half-elf what he learned. Sharalaer wore a sad expression as she shouldered her bow. She had hoped, like Drizzt, the elf rogue would be nothing more than a passerby and that he would decide to join them in the defense of Glimmerwood and the peace with the orcs.

She was on Drizzt's trail a few moments later. She quickly caught up to his easy trot through the trees. Drizzt skipped easily over the uneven terrain and wove an easy trail around the trees. Sharalaer had no problem following at a distance. It was odd that he was leaving such subtle signs of his presence.

Suddenly the trail stopped and disappeared. Sharalaer paused and dropped from the tree she had been perched in to look at the slight impression in the ground of Drizzt's last boot print. She crouched down to examine it and instantly knew her mistake. She sucked in a surprised gasp as the tip of a dagger pressed to the back of her neck.

"Do not move," came the cold voice behind her. "I do not wish to kill you."

"How?" she asked. "What did you do to him?"

Something poked her neck. She leapt forward and slapped her hand to the side of her neck where she had felt the sting. She collapsed.

"Don't try to speak," Hadrian Twilight said, softly. "The poison will only paralyze you. In an hour you will be able to move again."

Sharalaer fell prone to the ground and tried to speak, but she was face down and could barely breathe. Relief and despair washed over her as gentle hands rolled her over and she stared up into the cold gray eyes of Hadrian Twilight. Fear gripped her heart as she felt her doom leering down at her from those dark depths of emptiness.

"I know you can hear me," he said. "Stay out of this. I do not usually let those who interfere live. For you, I will. I'll let you suffer your betrayal to the elves of Glimmerwood. Yes, dear Sharalaer Truebow, I know of the information you have secretly been selling to the Casin cu Calas. If you do not value your life, then by all means, tell Lord Hralien of my escape when you are able to move. I will be glad to tell your secret in return."

With that, Hadrian dragged Sharalaer near a tree and covered her with brush. The rogue elf replaced the mask he had removed and smiled. Once more, Hadrian, in the guise of Drizzt Do'Urden, was skipping through the forest, heading north to meet with the Casin cu Calas.

Nearly an hour after Drizzt's departure, Lord Hralien marched toward the prison, six elven soldiers behind him. The rogue's time was up, but not before the traitorous elf gave up some information.

He swept into the room, ready to gain the location of the Night Riders who had hired him. Lord Hralien looked around the prison, his dark eyes flashing with anger. He spun to face the soldiers and the guards standing at the prison door.

"Find him! Find the rogue!"


	16. Chapter 16

His eyes were wide and alert. The darkness seemed to press in on him, even though he knew his companions were only a few feet away. They had been commanded to be silent and unseen. This meant they could not light a fire. Cold meals and cold nights for nearly a tenday had him on edge. His ears picked up every little sound as the sun settled behind the mountains, stretching shadows.

He nearly cried out when something brushed his arm. He turned, bringing his spear up, and yelped as a hand snappd out and wrapped around his throat.

"Silence," said the voice from the shadows of a hood. "They are on my trail."

The man relaxed visibly. Of course he had been startled. A mere human, he could never dream of matching the stealth of Hadrian Twilight the rogue.

Hadrian pushed back the cowel of Drizzt's cloak and looked at the group, eyes glowing with a dull red hue. His pale face was cut in half by the black mask that covered the lower part of it, letting only his eyes show under the locks of white hair. The humans, dwarves, and elves of the small band relaxed their grips on their weapons. The commotion they had caused when the sentry's yelp had alerted them was enough to make Hadrian glance around a little to make sure they were still alone.

"A torch," said a human standing to the side. "I can't see."

"Keep it low," Hadrian warned. "Lord Hralien and his warriors have already figured out that I am gone. They may be here within an hour or two at most."

"Ye led 'em to us," growled a dwarf.

"So they may pick up their drow ranger," Hadrian said, calmly.

"So it is done," an elf piped in. "You have Drizzt Do'Urden."

"I never fail," the rogue murmured. He blinked as a light flared and dimmed. A single torch lit the gloom and the Casin cu Calas gathered around as Hadrian crouched low. He pulled a wide bag from the belt he had taken from Drizzt Do'Urden. He wondered briefly if he would keep the two magnificent scimitars, Icingdeath and Twinkle, as his own, but they did not fit his hands as well as Charon's Claw and the jeweled dagger.

The rogue pulled open the wide mouth of the bag and reached in up to his shoulder. The bag could have never allowed that much of his arm in to it, except for it was imbued with magic to allow it to carry more than it appeared. Hadrian pulled his arm out and heard the murmurs of the men around him.

Pulled by a fist full of white hair, Drizzt Do'Urden's head appeared from the bag, followed closely by his shoulders and torso. Soon enough, Harian pulled Drizzt's entire naked body from the bag and dropped him to the ground.

The Night Riders congratulated Hadrian and grinned. The worst obstacle in their fight against the orcs was soon to be out of the way. Drizzt Do'Urden was paralyzed and at their mercy.

"Well done," said the leader, an elf who had spoken earlier. "Your payment is well worth this victory."

The elf motioned to a trunk of gold and jewels sitting not far off. Hadrian approached and examined the payment before nodding and turning to the elf leader of the small band of renegades.

"I have fulfilled my contract with you," he said. "It is satisfactory?"

"More so than we could have ever imagined. Your reputation does you no justice."

Hadrian nodded. "I have another contract that is a little over due," he said. "If you'll excuse me."

"Fare well, Hadrian Twilight," the elf said. "Are you sure you will not join us? It is a noble cause and your skills would be useful."

"I have no need for noble causes," Hadrian said. He pulled Drizzt's cloak from his shoulders and dropped the belt with Icingdeath and Twinkle. He buckled his belt on, resting his hands easily on the hilt of the jeweled dagger and Charon's Claw.

"Unfortunate," said the elf leader.

"For you," Hadrian said.

"What?"

The elf's word was cut short as the jeweled dagger flashed and sank into his throat. Hadrian moved quickly, his speed enhanced by the magical bracers around his ankles. A dwarf managed to deflect his dagger, but Hadrian sidestepped quickly to the left and struck with Charon's Claw. He managed to scratch the dwarf before his blow was deflected by an axe, but it was more than enough. The Netherese blade didn't need to bite deeply to cause enough damage to take the dwarf down.

The rogue spun, slapping away a spear that was aimed for his back. He ducked low as a human struck with a shortsword. The man brought the blow up short and stabbed out again, catching the deadly red blade of Charon's Claw as the elf brought it up to block. Hadrian stepped forward and rose, stabbing out with the jeweled dagger. It took the man in the armpit and began to pull the life from him. Hadrian used the man as a shield as another dwarf and human came at him from either side. He spun, bringing the dying man between him and the human. The human hesitated, but the dwarf charged in, thinking to sweep Hadrian's legs from under him. Hadrian saw the move and tossed his shield away. The human fell dead at his feet. The dwarf's companion charged in, enraged at seeing his friend slain, and came high. Hadrian waited for just a second before jumping and twisting his body to spin parallel with the oncoming blades. He felt the wind of the axe and sword as they passed above and below his body.

He landed in a crouch and immediately thrust his dagger into the dwarf's eye and Charon's Claw into the human's belly. He pulled them out almost as quick and sprang into a back flip as an arrow cut through the air where he had been. His sword cut through the air, taking out the next two arrows that followed him and leaving behind walls of ash that hung in the air. Surrounded as he was by the ash, the elf archer could not see Hadrian, but that didn't stop him from firing in the direction. He was rewarded by a cry of pain and focused on that area. Two more arrows zipped into the air, creating holes in the hanging walls of ash.

Hadrian fell forward through the wall, and landed hard on the ground. The rogue was very still as the remaining six Night Riders approached, weapons drawn. The elf that had shot him readied another arrow and aimed for the rogue.

* * *

Lord Hralien flew above the trees, trying to spot Drizzt, Sharalaer, or the rogue elf. He turned Sunrise to the north, where Drizzt had last been seen heading. He knew he had to head back soon to lead his warriors on a search. Scouts had already been dispatched and were searching the forest for any sign of the drow ranger, the half-elf, and the rogue.

He passed a copse of trees and heard a shout. He looked down to see one of his scouts supporting the limp form of Sharalaer. Lord Hralien pulled the pegasus around.

"She was wounded by the rogue," called the elf scout as Lord Hralien passed again. "Heading north."

Lord Hralien waved and started back toward the city. He would gather his warriors and head north, meeting Sharalaer on the way to get more information about the rogue's last known whereabouts. He pushed Sunrise hard toward home.


	17. Chapter 17

They gathered around the prone rogue. One human kicked him, making sure Hadrian was down. The rogue elf didn't move. A dwarf kicked the jeweled dagger and Charon's Claw from the rogue's grasp.

"So he is mortal after all," commented the elf with the bow.

They laughed, but it was cut short as Hadrian suddenly leapt up and spun in two full circles. Light flashed and glinted off steel in a beautiful array of shifting patterns. For a moment everything seemed to stop. Silence reigned as the band of Night Riders stared at each other in confusion. Then, one-by one, the two elves, three humans, and one dwarf fell to the ground, their throats opened and spilling bright red blood onto the ground. Their faces froze in looks of confusion and astonishment.

Hadrian looked at the scimitars in his hands. Twinkle and Icingdeath were clean, having moved so quickly through the throats of the Casin cu Calas that they didn't even have a drop of blood on them. The elf dropped the scimitars to the ground and stepped over the bodies to retrieve his dagger and sword. The dwarf he had wounded with Charon's Claw was still alive, and in pain. Hadrian dispatched him quickly, using the jeweled dagger to heal a small cut from the arrow.

"Unfortunate for you," Hadrian said, cheerfully. He began to rummage in his bag of holding and pulled out his clothing and armor. "You see, Drizzt Do'Urden, I am a rogue, nothing but misfit delinquent. I am a moving force of chaos." He started removing Drizzt's clothes and setting them beside the paralyzed drow.

"I have been taught my whole life to remain ten steps ahead of everyone else," Hadrian continued as he pulled on his own clothing and chain mail. "I survived because I am able to do that. I also found that profit is gained by such tactics. You see, I was hired by the Casin cu Calas to bring you down, but they never specified your death. So in essence I have fulfilled that contract perfectly. But do you know how I came to be in this territory in order to be hired in the first place?"

Hadrian knelt down next to Drizzt and smiled. The paralyzing poison he had used was wearing off and the drow was twitching, trying to move.

"I was summoned into the services of King Obould," the rogue elf murmured. "He wants the heads of this band of Night Riders because they have become a nuisance in their dogged pursuit and slaughter of his people. He wants them dead, and their heads to be brought to him as proof.

"That is where these men went wrong. It's all in the wording. I, like my father, see no need to kill you. You are too much fun alive."

Hadrian pulled the cloth mask from his face. He reached for another dart with the paralyzing poison on it and struck Drizzt's bare shoulder.

"I can't let you catch me, Drizzt Do'Urden," Hadrian said. "I could keep your many magical items, but I will not. Though, do not believe that I am not tempted to take Guenhwyvar. I know the panther is happier with you."

Hadrian held the statuette up and looked at it longingly. Drizzt struggled to break free of the poison, but only managed to twitch his fingers. The rogue elf set the panther statuette on the ground beside Drizzt and stood.

He moved about the camp, cutting the heads from the Casin cu Calas members and stuffing them into a large satchel. He refilled his supplies with stores from their wagons, and shoved the trunk of gold into his bag of holding. Finally, Hadrian moved back to Drizzt and removed the magical mask that had disguised him as the drow ranger when he had broken free of the elves.

"I doubt you will ever recognize me again, or hear the name Hadrian Twilight beyond these lands," the rogue said. "But I wanted you to know my true face, and the name bestowed upon me by my father, in honor of the greatest friend he had ever known."

Hadrian's smile lit his dark gray features and his gray eyes sparkled. He leaned down to whisper in Drizzt's ear.


	18. Chapter 18

Drizzt was pulling on his cloak when Lord Hralien and the elf warriors appeared from the forest. Arrows trained on him immediately, causing Guenhwyvar to growl. She had stood by her friend, guarding Drizzt while he was paralyzed, a last favor to a half-drow rogue.

Lord Hralien looked around at the decapitated corpses, noting that they were covered with the black robes of Casin cu Calas—the robes spread over their bodies to hide them from view. He motioned for his elves to lower their weapons.

"The rogue is gone," Drizzt said, calmly. "He has been gone for more than an hour."

"Which way?" Lord Hralien asked.

Drizzt turned toward the orc kingdom and shook his head. "Leave him," he said. "Hadrian Twilight will not return."

"What happened?"

Drizzt turned to the elf leader with a smirk. "A trick worthy of the legacy of the drow who carries it."

Lord Hralien glanced around in confusion, not finding the humor in the situation. Drizzt just shrugged and patted Guenhwyvar's head. The panther purred.

* * *

The elf that left the Kingdom of Many-Arrows nearly skipped across the ground. His purse was far heavier than he had anticipated when he first took the assignment from the orc king. Fortune and opportunity had been on his side when he had been able to double the profit by taking the assignment from the very people he was supposed to kill.

He lifted a hand to remove the magical mask from his face. Though his features remained the same, his skin went from the pale of the surface elves to a very dark gray tone. With his hood pulled low, he melted into the shadows of the evening and smiled like his father always did after a sweet and profitable venture.

It was a good day, the elf decided. A very good day, indeed.

* * *

That's the end of it. Probably. Most likely. Maybe.

I just want to thank you all for reading and giving me feedback. I hope you enjoyed the story (Next time I'll try to be a little more regular with my updates).

-K


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